Fic- Voluntary Madness

Fandom: Numb3rs
Pairing: Charlie/OFC, Don/OFC
Warnings: Slashy Incest Implied
Not Beta'd

The girls are drunk. The kind of drunk you say with two syllables. Der-unk. Drunker than Don. Drunker than the guy who's name Don can't remember who is currently asleep on the living room floor. Certainly drunker than he would ever dare bring anyone home if his parents weren't away celebrating somebody's wedding somewhere.

The girls are so drunk that they forget Don is leading them to the bathroom the moment they pass by Charlie's bedroom door.

Its 4:00 in the afternoon on a hot, bee-buzzy, perfect to be drunk Saturday and Charlie is doing his homework. Worse than that, he's not even doing necessary homework; he's doing extra-credit.

The girls barrel into his room as though that's what they meant to do all along.

"Oh!" the one Don was supposed to be with says. She spoke like she'd found a puppy in her shoe or a kitten trying to snuggle a Doberman or any of those disgustingly cute girly images they put on postcards and coffee mugs.

The one Don is supposed to be with is blond. Her hair falls in tight ringlets. Her lips are sweet and sticky with bits of bubble gum and too much cherry lip-gloss. She reeks, absolutely reeks, of tequila.

The other girl, the one the guy on Don's living room floor is supposed to be with, is also blond but this is thanks to a lifetime of bleach. She has dark brown eyes and dark eyebrows plucked into perfect skinny little arches that give her a slightly surprised expression.

Charlie notices them and glances from one to the other without rising from his desk. He doesn't notice Don as he takes another step back into the hallway. He doesn't notice the smell of liquor or the straps of their still wet bikini tops peeking out from under their tight tank tops. He doesn't notice anything except he was once alone and now he is not.

"Can I help you?" he asks politely.

"You're Don's little brother, aren't you. I know you," the one Don is supposed to be with says, and here Don racks his brain for her name and eventually produces it. Samantha.

Samantha turns to the bleached blond and says, "It's that kid from school. The genius. Charles, right?" Samantha's S's slur slightly and her face is pink from the sun.

"He's cute," the bleach blond says.

Charlie rises from his desk. He is wearing a faded pair of jeans and a polo shirt that gaps around his collarbone. He fiddles a pencil between his hands.

"You're cute," the bleach blond says to Charlie.

"Thank you," Charlie says. "Are you're Don's friends? Where is he?"

Both girls are giggling at Charlie's thank you. Or possibly the wind.

Samantha flops down on Charlie's bed, kicking her flip-flops onto the floor with two wet thwacks. Her Indian print swimsuit cover up slides up smooth tanned thighs and then completely gives up on in it's sole occupation.

"Where is Don?" Charlie asks again.

Don is in the hallway, one hand gripping the doorframe of Charlie's door, peeking between the door and the wall and telling himself he is watching to make sure Charlie is okay.

The bleached blond wanders over to Charlie's desk and ruffles the papers there.

"What's this?"

"Differential calculus."

"I'm Kelly. That's Sam."

Samantha raises a hand from the bed and waves it Charlie's direction. "Yo."

Kelly gives a little pose, arching her back and thrusting her breasts toward Charlie's face. She waits until Charlie notices, then drops it immediately, grabbing his wrist and pulling him back until he stumbles and falls onto the bed between Samantha and Kelly.

Samantha sits up and wraps her arms around him. Kelly puts a hand on the top of Charlie's head.

"Cute hair," Kelly says.

"Thank you."

"You're just cute all over," Samantha says, putting her chin on Charlie's shoulder. She laces her fingers together and squeezes just under Charlie's ribs. "Huggable."

"Are you a virgin, Charles?" Kelly flicks her hair back over her shoulder.

"You can call me Charlie and no."

Samantha stretches. "Can you pretend to be? It would be more fun."

"He's probably lying anyway."

The girls stroke his arms and giggle into his neck.

"I think I'm going to go find Don," Charlie says. He makes it halfway into a stand and then they pull him back down, pushing him down onto his back and curling up against his chest. Samantha is nearly asleep, her unbrushed hair, stiff from dired saltwater, matted against Charlie's pillow. .

Charlie is starting to look a little uncomfortable and Don feels bad that this makes him feel better.

Kelly unbuttons Charlie's shirt and sticks her hand under the fabric. She gently rubs the soft skin of his breastbone and whispers something in Charlie's ear.

Don licks his lips and takes a small step forward until his forehead and the toes of his shoes press against the doorframe.

Kelly grabs Charlie's hand and slides it down her back, under the fabric of her cutoff jeans. Charlie bites his lip instead of kissing her but she perseveres, mashing her lips against Charlie's at the same time grabbing his head and holding it firmly so he can't get away.

Charlie has no willpower, this is a widely known fact among the Eppes family and part of Don is surprised Charlie's held out this long. Part of Don is feeling funny in a hot, heavy pressure in his chest sort of way. Part of Don is getting angry and wants to rush into the room and pull them apart, drag both girls away, even Samantha who is definitely asleep.

Part of Don is der-unk.

Part of Don, and this is the most distressing thing, part of Don is hard and aching and pressing up tight against the zipper of his blue jeans. This part of Don is starting to hurt its pressed up so tight but adjusting it would involving first acknowledging it and there just isn't enough girl skin showing for him to do that yet.

Charlie is kissing Kelly now. He's even got his hand rucking up her tank top and pressed against the soft skin of her flat belly that so recently had lain out for all of California to see and admire. It hadn't bugged Don on the beach, but here, in his brother's bedroom, it's practically obscene.

Charlie's hand moves higher and disappears under the orange nylon of Kelly's bikini top.

Way to go, Chuck, is Don's first thought followed by, God, what a slut, followed by This is all my fault. After that, he stops thinking in thoughts and its just feelings that sweep down his skull and into his ears. They lay thick in his throat and make his head spin as one hand curls into a fist and the other jams down the front of his blue jeans, popping the button and making the zipper rasp.

Kelly pulls open Charlie's jeans a moment after and expresses a coo of delight. She pulls at him, arranging his thighs at the foot of the bed and pulling him forward to her so she could put her knees on the ground and then Don can't see anything anymore. Just the bed and the mussed place where they'd lain and Samantha, asleep with her arm curled under her ear.

It takes a second for Don to decide just how badly he wants to see what's going on.

He doesn't know if it's the moan that makes him look or if it just happens at the same time, but it's Charlie's voice alright and as he peeks his head around the door the moan turns into breathy little "ah"s that send shivers rolling down Don's shoulders and arms.

Charlie has his head tilted back and his eyes closed. He is exposing the line of his throat and swallowing in between the "ah"s and this is officially too much for Don, who realizes he isn't even looking at the girl anymore. Kelly has her head leaning over Charlie's lap and isn't very interesting anyway, at least from this angle.

Don removes the hand from his jeans, takes five steps down the hall and sits down on the floor, putting his head between his knees as though he were about to faint.

When Kelly finally exits Charlie's room, alone, Don is almost convinced he has a good reason to grab her, push her hard, too hard really, against the wall and kiss her. He tells himself he is not looking for strange tastes against the tequila sunrise background of her tongue.

That's what they had been doing, tequila sunrises at sunrise, but they hadn't gotten to the beach until ten and they hadn't been able to find the third thing so it had really just been tequila and orange juice.

Kelly's kisses are open and easy and Don leans in close, running his tongue against every part of her mouth. She worms her hand into his already open jeans and it doesn't take long for him to come all over her little cutoffs.

Kelly thinks this is hilarious.

Don finally does get her into the bathroom to take a shower and wash the sand from her body and the salt water from her hair like he originally intended.

Afterwards he cleans himself off, rebuttons his jeans and goes back to Charlie's room, making sure to knock before he enters.

Charlie is flushed and sweaty, sitting on the end of his bed with his polo shirt still unbuttoned but his jeans on like nothing ever happened.

"Where's…oh there she is," Don says. He pitches his voice high in fake appreciation. "Look at the ladykiller in here, luring in the girls."

"I wish," Charlie said, pushing off his bed and going over to his desk. "Could you get her out of here?"

"Yeah, sure." Don stares a minute at the back of Charlie's head, then pulls the girl he was supposed to be with up, out into the hallway and begins forgetting.